Here I Am
by BobDTigr
Summary: An heir to his father's banking empire, and a daughter to two small Parisian bakers- Felix and Bridgette come from completely different worlds. But one day, their fates intertwine, though they may not know it yet.
1. Introductions : Félix Agreste

_Introductions :_ Félix Agreste

* * *

Dark, heavy raindrops pounded against the thick glass of the airport limousine window. In the back of the needlessly air-conditioned vehicle sat two people, both quietly observing the surrounding grey landscape through the blurry glass. One of them was Gabriel Agreste, a world-renowned businessman and the CEO of Agreste & Sons, a largely influential corporate bank.

The other was his son, Félix.

The relation between them was unmistakable. They sat with the same stiff, straight posture, the same thin line scowled across their pale lips, the same unreadable expression in their stormy grey eyes. Their only source of movement was the occasional pothole for which the driver would hastily apologize, the slight bump shattering their statue-esque demeanours for a brief moment.

Félix's gaze languidly followed the landmarks as they passed by. _Tree. Tree. Farmland. Paris, 10 km. Farmland. Tree._ He tried to pinpoint something that felt familiar to him, but failed. It had been ten years since he was in France, after all- he supposed it would have been stranger if he did remember it. In the end, it didn't matter much to him. He was used to feeling like a foreigner, having followed his father all around the world as the Agreste empire expanded. Two years in England, another three in America, several-month-long stints in China, India, and Dubai and some other countries. And now they were back in Paris, just in time for his final year of schooling at one of Europe's most elite business lycée's.

The car jerked to an abrupt stop. The sudden disturbance diverted both Félix and Gabriel's attention forward, where they were met with the static crimson light of the rain-dirtied car in front.

"Traffic," the driver explained in a matter-of-fact tone, as though the large number of surrounding cars weren't immediately obvious. He cautiously leaned back in his seat, casting a wary glance into his rear view mirror.

Gabriel sighed, bringing up his hand to check his watch. "I have an appointment at 16 h that absolutely cannot be missed."

"Sorry, monsieur." They rolled forward a couple of metres. "Not much I can do. Looks like there was an accident or something."

Félix clicked his tongue in annoyance, propping his elbow against the leather interior of the car to rest his jaw against his knuckles. The driver visibly relaxed. They drove along in a sullen silence.

After half an hour or so they finally reached the city's inner core, just as the rain was beginning to lift.

Miraculously, Gabriel was not late for his meeting.

As they turned the last corner, Félix was met with the view of the looming grey brick walls of his childhood home. He took a sharp intake of breath as the driver pulled into the half-circle driveway, or at least as attempted to, since there was a large group of apparent paparazzi wielding cameras and microphones taking up most of it.

"Kid." The driver couldn't hide his surprise. "You famous or something?"

"You could say that," Félix replied coldly, unbuckling his seatbelt. "How much?"

"Hmm?" The driver glanced up from the window. "Oh, the tab- right. Fifty-five euros."

Félix leaned forward, pressing a few crisp bills into the driver's hand, who then immediately turned to collect the change, not noticing the two successive _thuds_ that followed.

"Um, monsieur," he piped up after a few seconds, looking back. "I don't have enough change for-"

The backseat was empty. Outside, he could see the young man shoving his way through the crowd, luggage in tow, up to the front gate of the beautiful-looking mansion. Looking back down at the thin stack of fifty euro notes in his hand he shrugged.

"Must be nice," he said to himself before driving off.

Félix let out a sigh of relief as he shoved the front door closed behind him with his back. It was naïve of him to have expected the media wouldn't find out the Agreste's were back in town, although he had been hopeful when his father had made it into his business building unscathed. He could still hear the reporters screaming for him, which was itself a remarkable feat considering there was not only a good thirty feet between the front door and the gate, but the house itself was supposedly soundproof.

Evidently, state-of-the-art soundproofing technology was no match for good old-fashioned megaphones.

As Félix relaxed, he allowed himself to fully take in his surroundings. The entrance was a long, wide foyer culminating in a grand, carpeted staircase, complete with high ceilings and a statement chandelier- Swarovski crystals, no doubt. There was not a single speck of dust to betray the fact that no one had lived in the house for ten years; in fact, as far as Félix could recall, not a single thing had been changed from when he last saw it.

He carefully slipped off his wet shoes and soundlessly crept up the stairs. His room was in the back right corner of the house, his feet moving on memory alone. His door was the only one open in this wing of the house, and when he stepped inside he was immediately greeted by a wave of nostalgia. Hazy sunlight filtered in through the blinds on both windows, softly illuminating the room. The walls were painted that familiar shade of periwinkle blue, a colour he proudly selected at five years old after days of serious deliberation.

The furniture in the room was completely different- bigger, of course. He was much taller at seventeen than at seven. His white bookshelves, once filled with picture books and action figures, were filled with volumes upon volumes of novels, plays, and textbooks. The matching desk stood empty save for a lamp, that he hesitated to turn on. The instantaneous shadows felt oddly strange, and he immediately flicked it off.

He experimentally pulled open one of the drawers, but nothing was in it.

A warm-looking white comforter was spread invitingly atop the king-sized bed, and Félix left his luggage at the foot of the bedframe. He turned to the closet, slowly opening the door to discover a row of expensive clothes, all his current size, hanging crisp from the hangers. Not finding what he needed, he tried the armoire, where he located a drawer filled with sets of silk pyjamas. He closed it with a sigh and instead crouched down beside his suitcase and zipped it open, thumbing through the neatly folded clothes to find a pair of sweat pants and a plain cotton tee shirt at the bottom.

He undressed quickly and left his stiff pants and dress shirt in an unsightly pile at the corner of his bed. Following suit, he let himself collapse into the soft memory foam mattress. A quick run of fingers through his pale blond hair completely mussed the gel-stiffened locks that had been held perfectly in place through an eight hour flight. For a brief moment he considered taking a shower, but his fatigue combined with the comfort of a luxury bed encapsulated him and he soon fell deeply asleep.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** And here we begin.

Truth be told, I don't know if I will have the motivation to finish this fic. I know exactly where I want the story to go, but getting there seems scary and frightening.

Please enjoy it as I work on it, and feedback and constructive criticism (especially on the characters) are very much appreciated!


	2. Introductions : Bridgette Dupain-Cheng

_Introductions :_ Bridgette

* * *

Bridgette was the kind of person who had had her fair share of bad days, her clumsy nature an unlucky curse which more often than not ruined her day. Occasionally, like when she wanted to get out of chores or gym class, being able to fall "accidentally" was certainly useful.

But when she was running home from the Saturday market trying to avoid the heavy rain, it certainly _was not_.

It started that morning, with her staring rather dismally out the bakery window at the pouring rain and the promise she made to her mother the day before to pick up fresh groceries weighing heavily on her mind. The market was a fifteen minute walk away, five minutes if she ran, so when the rain finally ceased in the late afternoon she took off as fast as she could.

As she ran she recited the list of fruits and vegetables she needed to buy in her mind. _Strawberries, for the cake. Blueberries for the muffins, raspberries for the jam, carrots for the soup we're having for dinner tonight. What else, what else? Right. Apricots. They're in season._

As soon as she got to the plaza she took a mental note of all the stalls that were located there, quickly planning the most efficient path to purchase everything. As she waited for the customers in front of her at the first stall to pay, she impatiently bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, looking up at the dark sky with a worried expression every few seconds.

"Bridgette!" The market vendor greeted her amicably as she weighed the cartons of strawberries she was handed. "How are your parents?"

"Good," Bridgette replied politely, gathering change in her wallet.

"That's great to hear!" The cheerful lady chuckled, putting the berries back on the counter. "That'll be six euros and ten cents. Is that everything, dear?"

"Mmhm," Bridgette counted out the coins and dropped them into the lady's palm. "Thank you!"

"Anytime!" The vendor smiled, watching the pair of long black pigtails swish as the small girl ducked her way through the crowd.

Bridgette marvelled at her unusual luck that it still hadn't rained by the time she finished buying the last item on her mental list. Calling out a rushed _merci_ to the vegetable seller, she repositioned her hold on the two heavy bags she carried in each hand before taking off again.

As she turned the last corner before her family's bakery, something felt different. She glanced around briefly, trying to find the outlier, when she heard it. A mass of people, shouting at something, that seemed to be coming from… her left. And to her left was a mansion, a beautiful one at that, but as far as she remembered no one actually lived there.

As she continued running down the sidewalk she came into view of the house's front gate, where she noted a large group of people with cameras and sound equipment, huddled on the driveway. _It's no wonder somebody famous lives there,_ she thought, grinning to herself. She had half a mind to stop and try to find out who it was, but one quick look at the threatening sky and all she did was speed up even more.

As Bridgette was about to hop off the curb and cross the street, a large blue car intercepted her, hardly braking to turn at the corner. She stumbled backward and caught her heel on a loose cobblestone. Completely caught off balance, she fell down, landing butt-first into a large, very unappealingly-hued puddle of water. It splashed up, covering her entire back.

"Hey!" She whipped her head to shout at the vehicle, but it was off no use. Through the darkened glass she caught a glimpse of a teenage boy maybe around her age, not unattractive by any means but with rather severe straight features that she didn't immediately recognize. As he passed her, Bridgette noticed a flash of fear cross his face as he was confronted with the image she herself had seen just a few seconds ago, only for him to be instantaneously recomposed with his earlier harsh indifference.

She sat there on the sidewalk watching the limousine turn into the driveway when yet another car hurriedly turned the same corner, this time driving straight into the collected water on the side of the street. Dirty rainwater rose up and drenched her completely.

"Hey!" She screamed again, but again it was of no use, they were already gone. She inspected her groceries, glad to have had the foresight to carry them in plastic bags which protected them for the most part. With a sigh she got up and looked both ways before stepping onto the street, carefully striding her way across to reach the other side where her family's bakery proudly stood.

The little golden bell jingled its familiar tune as Bridgette pulled open the foggy glass door. The scent of freshly baked goods attacked her nostrils, and she stayed at the entrance for a moment, wiping her shoes on the welcome mat and letting herself feel the comfortable warmth.

She stepped briskly aside as the customer her mother was just helping made her way for the exit, and she took the opportunity to step up to the register while her mother was distracted in the kitchen.

"Maman!" She called out, setting the wet bags on the floor behind the register. "I got the groceries, they're a little wet though!"

"Huh?" Her mother called out from the kitchen. "What did you say?"

"Groceries!" Bridgette shouted a little louder. "They're wet!"

"Yes, okay, sweetie!"

Bridgette sighed, not bothering to try again. She made her way up the stairs and into her room, where she quickly undressed and tossed the wet clothes into the laundry basket. She took a quick shower to hopefully wash away the unfortunate scent of the dirty water that had lingered in her long black hair and afterward plopped down sideways on her bed, wet towel and all. She stretched over to her nightstand to grab her phone, mindlessly checking her social media before noticing that it had begun raining again.

Sighing, she sat up and walked over to the window. Through the raindrops she could see the grey blurs of the giant mansion, and for a second she thought she could see a light flicker on, but she wasn't entirely sure.

Bridgette suddenly felt a twinge of curiosity about the mysterious newcomer. Thumbing in the passcode on her phone once more, she opened up a tab with Google before realizing she had no clue what to search up. "Famous people arriving in Paris" didn't yield any relevant results, and she set the phone down on her desk with a hum of dissatisfaction. She looked once more toward the grey building, hoping to see another light, but there was nothing. Giving up, she put on a fresh pair of clothes, and went downstairs to see if her parents needed any help with the bakery.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** In order for me to post I have to have a full chapter ahead of whatever I'm posting.

Unfortunately chapter one took me like... a month to write? Whoops. But that's where the story begins, so hopefully chapter two doesn't take anywhere near as long!

As always, please enjoy and like/favourite/review, it means _a ton~_ thank you!


	3. Chapter 1

Every once in a while, a rare species of human is born, one with some sort of strange magical anomaly that is both feared and revered by all others.

Such an individual is commonly referred to as a "morning person", and Bridgette Dupain-Cheng is one of them.

Her ability to wake up at a reasonable time in the early hours of the day and actually feel somewhat well-rested is a trait much envied by her teenage-aged peers. Bridgette, if you asked her about it, would argue that it was only the result of countless years waking up at five in the morning and doing the preliminary preparations for the bakery, but the matter of the fact remains that when she _does_ have a day off, she will not sleep in until 14 h or 11 h or even 6 h. No matter how late she stayed up the night before.

As such, in the midst of a classroom filled with yawning and half-asleep seventeen-year-olds, all completely unexcited to have to be up at such an ungodly hour for their first day of school, Bridgette stuck out like a sore thumb. Except, rather than being sore, she was bright-eyed, perked up, and enthusiastically chatting away with her friends in the few minutes they had before the teacher reached the classroom.

Melodie, Mercury, and Wilson. The four of them had been friends since their first year of collège, having been fortunately all grouped up for the same business project. Melodie and Mercury were fraternal twins, and Wilson was a transfer student from England. They'd bonded over their shared love of video games, which was precisely what they were discussing at the moment.

(True friends don't really have to ask what you did over the summer.)

"All I'm saying," Mercury said animatedly, "is that Blue would kick Dust's butt. He's actually been Pokénom league champion. What has Dust done? Carried around a Pichaku for four generations."

"Pichaku! Exactly!" Wilson replied excitedly. "Dust's Pichaku is so much higher-levelled than Blue's!"

"That doesn't mean anything if all he's taught it is completely useless!"

"GUYS." Melodie interjected, slamming her head against the desk. "Please. It's too early for this."

Wilson looked away sheepishly as Mercury rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at his sister. Bridgette fiddled with her pencil as the conversation lulled, absentmindedly tapping it against the surface of her desk in no particular rhythm.

"I heard Gabriel Agreste is back in Paris!" Wilson piped up after a few seconds.

 _Snap._

Bridgette watched as the broken graphite rolled off the table and onto the floor.

"Oh yeah," Mercury confirmed. "Hey, Bridge, didn't you say you wanted to intern for A'n'S next summer?"

"Yeah." She looked up. "I need to sharpen my pencil, be right back."

As Bridgette got out of her chair she pulled on the hem of Melodie's lavender top, signalling for her to come with.

"What's up?" Melodie asked as soon as they reached the trash bin by the entrance to the classroom.

"Someone moved into that giant house across from me this weekend," Bridgette began, inspecting the pointiness of her sharpened pencil.

"That humongous one we all thought was haunted?" Melodie raised an eyebrow, immediately seeing where her friend was going. "You think it was the Agrestes?"

"I think so." Satisfied, Bridgette put the pencil in her pocket. "I even saw one of them, I think."

"Not Gabriel?"

"No." Bridgette shook her head. "His son, probably. He was around our age."

Melodie cocked her head to the side. "Félix?"

"Yes!" Bridgette snapped her fingers. "That's it, I'd forgotten his name."

"And you think he'll go here?" Melodie asked, rolling her eyes.

"I don't know." Bridgette shrugged. "I don't see why not."

"Bridge, the guy's dad probably has enough money to buy this school a hundred times over."

A coughing noise from the doorway behind them caused the two girls to turn around.

"Actually, it's somewhere closer to six thousand, eight hundred and thirty-two times over," a tall, pale blond boy said in a deep, matter-of-fact tone. "Excuse me." He motioned to a gaping Bridgette, who promptly realized she was blocking his way.

"Oh, uh, sorry," she mumbled, stepping over closer to Melodie.

He brushed past her without another word, leaving her stunned.

"Is that him?" Melodie mouthed to her.

Bridgette nodded, watching as he confidently stepped across the room and took a seat in the dead center of the front row where no one else was sitting.

"Wow, what a butt," Melodie groaned as soon as Félix was out of earshot.

"Mmmhm," Bridgette half-heartedly agreed, not really paying attention as she kept her eyes glued to him.

"Bridge." Melodie looked between her friend and the newcomer, exasperated. "Do you think he's cute?"

"What?" Bridgette's attention snapped back right away. "No, no, it's just…" She broke off, turning back to look at Félix, who was pointedly staring at the chalkboard and (she could tell) attempting to ignore their conversation. "I'm interested in him. That's all."

"Mmhm," Melodie hummed knowingly. "Because he's an Agreste, right?"

"No, that's not it!" Bridgette refuted, blushing.

"Either he's cute or he's rich, pick one."

"Mel!" Bridgette shot her friend a poisonous look. "He's not even my type."

"I'm jo-king!" Melodie giggled. "Besides," she said, looking over to where Wilson and Mercury were happily discussing the latest game in the Older Scrolls series. "I know that already."

"Thank you." Bridgette stuck up her chin.

"But seriously," Melodie continued, "why _do_ you care?"

"I don't know," Bridgette answered honestly. "He seems… lonely, I guess."

Melodie sighed, giving her friend a defeated smile. "Yeah, it's not really like you to abandon a transfer student."

"Ahem." Another, deeper voice came from behind them once more. "It's about time for you to get back to your seats, young ladies."

Melodie and Bridgette looked up to see the stern face of their homeroom chemistry teacher, and with startled expressions scrambled back to their desks without another word.

Félix sighed inwardly as he watched the two girls guiltily move back to their seats. He supposed it wouldn't be too long before everyone in the class knew who he was, given the way the light-haired girl had spoken about him.

Much to his surprise, the heated whispers he anticipated did not come, even when his first name was called on the attendance.

That was unusual thing number one.

Unusual thing number two was when, after first period was dismissed and the bell had rung, the black-haired girl from earlier shot over to his desk like a bullet.

"Hi," she said, sticking her hand out over the pile of books on his desk he was just beginning to put away into his bag. "I'm Bridgette."

Caught off guard, Félix studied her face for a moment. Her eyes appeared to be brimming with resolution, her mouth set in a stubbornly friendly smile. She seemed used to it.

Electing to ignore her, he reached his hand under hers and grabbed the last of his books. He tried to sidestep her, but she stepped in front of him.

"Hey!" She cried indignantly, grabbing his wrist. "That was rude. I was just trying to be friendly!"

"I tend to have bad experiences with friendly people," Félix replied curtly, shaking off her grip.

"Still," she continued to pout. "That doesn't mean you shouldn't at least be polite."

He stared at her, but she _glared_ back. He sighed. "What do you want from me?"

She stood silent for a couple seconds, considering.

"A smile."

"What?"

"A smile, she repeated, crossing her arms. "You didn't smile even once during class. I want to get you to smile by the end of the week."

She grinned at what he supposed was the dumbfounded expression on his face, but he quickly regained composure. "Not happening."

"Again. Rude. At least let me try."

"And what do you get if I do?" He asked.

"I get to see you smile," Bridgette laughed, like it was supposed to be obvious.

Her face refilled with the same resolution she had before, a mischievous glint blossoming in the bright blue of her eyes.

"Deal?" She stuck out her hand.

When he searched her expression again, he found the third and final unusual thing of the day.

He couldn't see a single trace of dishonesty or insincerity.

"Fine," Félix said, carefully lifting up his hand to shake hers. It was tiny and warm, and a little clammy, as though she'd been… nervous, the whole time. Their eyes met completely, and he was sure that her surprise at his sudden acceptance perfectly reflected his own.

"Great!" She squealed as soon as he let go. "Just you wait, Félix."

He watched as she left to rejoin her group of friends, who undoubtedly had watched the whole encounter. As she attempted to "quietly" recount their conversation, he stared down at his right hand, opening and closing it a few times.

As Bridgette left the classroom, he saw her doing the same thing.

Author's Notes:

I've had this chapter in my drafts for well over a year at this point. I wasn't happy with it the first time I wrote it but I never got around to fixing it.

Figured I might as well release it though, and hopefully continue the rest of the story ^^

Fun Fact:

Thank u to Guest on for the quote "Felix is a butt".

He is indeed a butt, I wholeheartedly agree J


	4. Chapter 2

"Mel, I have tried _everything_. _"_

Bridgette lay collapsed on top of her desk, cheek pressed flat against the wood. She stared sullenly at Félix through the view of her classmates packing their bookbags, excited for only one more day to go before their anticipated weekend break.

"You can't have possibly tried everything," Melodie patted her head. "Did you try cracking funny jokes?"

"Tuesday morning."

"Making puns?"

"Wednesday at lunch."

Melodie paused. "Funny faces?"

"Five minutes ago," Bridgette groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I don't know what else to do! I tripped in front of him on a banana peel, I tried offering to carry his bookbag, I even put memes in my class presentation. Memes, Melodie. He doesn't even find memes funny."

She sighed.

"In your defense," Melodie pointed out, "It doesn't look like he's ever smiled a day in his life."

The two girls glanced over to where Félix was. He was looking away from them- away from everyone, actually, slowly putting his notebooks away. He was, clearly, listening to their conversation, but did not react in any conceivable manner.

Bridgette was pretty sure she could light a firecracker next to him and he wouldn't even jump.

The entire week, Félix hadn't talked to anyone, although others in their class had made attempts to befriend him. Mercury asked what games he played (none, he had no time between homework and extra lessons), Wilson asked him to study together afterschool (he couldn't, as he had a private tutor), and Melodie even had the guts to ask if he wanted to join them for ice cream during lunch.

The answer, of course, was a simple straightforward 'no, thanks'.

"You know, you could always give up," Melodie said reassuringly. "Some games can't be won, you know?"

"You know full well how _stubborn_ I am, though," Bridgette pouted. She watched as Felix left the classroom, his gaze a blank stare ahead of him. "I have one more day. Come on, let's go follow him!"

Félix took a deep breath as he stepped out of the classroom.

She was absolutely relentless, moreso than he had initially expected, but nevertheless her attempts at humouring him were undoubtedly foolish and simple-minded.

A banana peel. A freaking banana peel. He _watched_ her put it on the ground in front of him, only to totally not-on-purpose trip on it a couple minutes later. Did she think she was a cartoon?

And what was with that presentation on the history of French pastries? There was a plethora of seemingly random images of characters he wasn't familiar with with the most ridiculous captions and unintelligible grammar. Even the teacher chuckled at a few of them, but he couldn't fathom why. Every time one of those pictures popped up, Bridgette's eyes were drawn immediately toward him. He could see hope in her eyes, a wish for him to crack up, smile, or even just… blink. Something. Anything.

She made awful puns, terrible jokes, and the ugliest faces he had probably ever seen a girl make in his life. She offered to carry his books, pay for his lunch, offered him homemade pastries, gave him copies of her notes, and even asked to walk home with him once.

The only redeeming quality of Bridgette, he thought, was probably her sheer will to keep going despite all odds.

 _Her hair is kind of pretty, though…_

Long black pigtails suddenly ribbonned around him as the thought crossed his mind, and Bridgette appeared in front of him, stopping Félix in his tracks.

He stood silently, cocking his head to one side.

She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to speak in some sort of exclamation, then sighed when he didn't.

"You like classical music, right?" She asked innocently.

"It is one of the kinds of music I find tolerable, yes." He replied.

"Great," she grinned. "My cousin's playing in a symphony tomorrow night. Violin. She's actually really good-"

"Your point?" He interrupted, sliding around her.

She grabbed onto his arm and pulled him back. "She scored two tickets, so go with me!"

"No." He kept moving.

"Your dad's gonna be there."

"So?"

"Doesn't that mean you're gonna be there anyway?"

 _Shit._ He stopped. She smiled brighter. He groaned heavily, resisting the urge to say no and just beeline for the exit. But he knew, he knew that even if he said no, she would find him there, with his father, and cause a scene.

How annoying.

"Fine," he accepted defeat. "Under a few conditions."

"Deal!" She pumped her fist in the air, finally letting him go.

"One, you must- hey are you even listening?"

She'd jumped away from him, jogging toward the exit. "Sorry!" She waved her arms up in the air. "Gotta go help out my mom! Just text me!"

With a dainty twirl she flew outside the school, leaving him dumbstruck.

 _I don't even have your number…_

The door chime whistled as the well-dressed blond customer entered and approached the bakery counter. He stood pondering the collection of delicious treats laid out in front of them, a bit lacking in quantity as the end of the day was near.

"How may I help you," Sabine asked cheerfully, taking a pause in her sweeping to greet the late-night guest.

She could see his eyes settled on one of the remaining croissants, and when they switched over to meet hers, a glitter of recognition flashed in them.

He seemed almost perfectly composed, but she could sense a hint of nervousness in him. Mother's intuition, you might say.

"Are you perhaps," she started before he could respond, "a friend of Bridgette's?"

His eyebrows raised slightly. "You could say that."

"Oh," Sabine leaned on the counter. "Are you then perhaps," she smiled cheekily, "her boyfriend?"

"I think the best way to describe it is casual acquaintance."

"I see."

He frowned. "Would it be possible to see her at this moment. I have some things to discuss with her."

"Of course," Sabine nodded. "Anything for a _casual acquaintance_ of Bridgette's."

She stepped around the counter toward the spiral staircase leading upstairs, and climbed up halfway.

"Bridgette!" She called out loudly.

A muffled 'yes, maman' could be heard in response.

"Your _casual acquaintance,_ uh-" Sabine looked back at the boy.

"Félix."

"Félix is here to see you!"

A door opening, then footsteps pattering down the stairs. Bridgette's face popped into view.

"What's up? I told you to text me," she said.

"I don't have your number."

"What? But I left it for you on that post-it note!"

He faintly recalled a small pink note attached to his history textbook with some numbers scrawled on it.

"I threw that out."

She groaned. Sabine giggled. Félix stood motionless.

"Come on up," Bridgette motioned for him to climb the steps. My room's a mess though."

He quickly went up the stairs, ignoring the stare of Bridgette's mom on his back. He followed the pigtails up another flight to her room, which was, he thought, aptly described, if not understated.

It was an absolute disaster, papers and fabrics littered everywhere. At first Félix thought it was just her clothes, until he noticed the presence of mannequins and countless sewing supplies scattered across the floor.

"You… design clothes?" He asked, a hint of surprise floating in his voice.

"Oh, yeah," Bridgette chuckled, tossing things off her bed onto the floor. "It's a hobby. Here, sit."

He carefully tip-toed across to her hastily-made bed, taking a hesitant seat at the foot and folding his hands in his lap. She scrambled on completely, squeezing a large pink teddy bear tightly with her arms. Félix could tell she was trying to put some distance between them.

It was, in a way, a bit awkward. She pursed her lips together, refusing to meet his gaze.

He cleared his throat. "So," he began, "my conditions."

"Mmhm," she acknowledged him.

"One. If around my father or his people, speak only when spoken to."

She frowned.

"You can speak freely when we are in private-"

"You're telling me I can't talk?" She asked indignantly.

"I speak only when spoken to as well."

Bridgette fell quiet. "That's awful," she said.

"I'm used to it. Two," Félix continued. "You are to always stay with me."

She bristled.

"I know, I'm not a fan of your company much either. Three-"

"Will you ever smile?"

The question took him off guard. "You're still on that? I thought I told you there was no point."

"I get it if nothing I do will make you smile," she replied. "But isn't there something that makes you happy?"

Félix considered it for a moment.

"Honestly, not even just that," she continued. "Is there anything that makes you… feel anything?"

"Feel?" He glanced up toward her. She was staring at him with that usual determination he was familiar with, but in a few moments it was replaced with a face of worry and… _pity_.

And he realized that, for the first time in a long time, he must have let something slip on his expression, because she had tossed away the bear and was hugging him, hugging him tighter than anyone ever had, and this newfound warmth and pressure- well, he could almost say that he welcomed it.

 _Feel?_ He answered to himself silently. _No, there's nothing that's made me feel in a long, long time._

 _Except maybe… right now._

Author's Note

I just wrote this and I didn't proofread it oh well pls enjoy thank 3


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